Crossed Leaps
by Jonn Wolfe
Summary: This is the leap that Al alluded to with Captain Harkness in 'Captains and Admirals'. Rated M for sordid situations and humour on the level of Al and Jack uncensored.


_**Crossed Leaps  
**__Chapter One  
- Oh Boy -_

* * *

_**Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own the rights to anything you see here. I just wrote it. This is the leap that Al alluded to with Captain Harkness in 'Captains and Admirals'._

* * *

_It all started when a time travel experiment I was conducting went... a little ka-ka. In the blink of a cosmic clock I went from quantum physicist to air force test pilot. Which could have been fun... if I knew how to fly. Fortunately, I had help. An observer from the project named Al. _

_Unfortunately, Al's a hologram, so all he can lend is moral support. Anyway, here I am. Bouncing around in time, putting things right which once went wrong. A sort of time travelling Lone Ranger, with Al as my Tonto. And I don't even need a mask._

* * *

Sam opened his eyes and found himself staring at the ceiling of a bedroom. Blinking confusedly, he looked to his right and saw a lamp that had no business being such. It was a bronze lacquer monstrosity in the shape of an abstract nude woman, arms raised towards the bulb. A rather chintzy looking red lampshade with black tassels hanging from the edge made him think that he was somewhere in the middle of the nineteen seventies. The shade of green wallpaper cemented that idea.

A feminine groan got his attention from the right, and he recognized that his chest was the current resting spot for a bare arm. Wasn't his, but the smell of perfume was definitely something that got his attention. Smelled _too_ good, he thought. Taking stock of himself, he realized that he and this unknown lady were both nude. He only realized that when the arm drifted down, past his abs, and cupped his rather angry groin.

He tried stifling the groan that evoked, and it ended up sounding like an, "Mmph."

"Mornin' lover," a rather husky sounding voice whispered into his ear. Turning his head, he saw a mop of sandy blonde hair, and a pair of blue eyes that twinkled with mischief.

"Hi," he squeaked. "Uhm."

"Shh," she interrupted with a grin. She gave him a quick peck on the lips, then ducked down underneath the covers.

Inhaling sharply at what she was doing, his eyes rolled back and he thought this was one _hell_ of a way to start a leap. Of all the different ways, from being shot at, thrown off a horse, finding out he was a woman, yelled at, and even drop kicked, THIS was how every leap should start, he decided. He was grinning at that when he heard the observation door open.

Entering the room, Al was dressed like a canary, all done up in yellow. Or, was that a rain suit? Sam honestly didn't care at the moment.

"Sam," Al started then stopped, staring at the motion lithe form under the covers was making. "Well, aint _this_ a kick in the head?"

Sam put a finger to his lips with a grimace, then waved him away with a repetitive flicking of his hand. 'Gimme five minutes,' he mouthed at Al.

Smiling wide, Al chuckled. "Sure thing. Back in two shakes." He then winced. "Sorry, no pun intended. Her name's Becky, by the way. Yours is Jack. Tell you the rest later." The door opened, he stepped through it and it closed again.

Leaning his head back and stretching, Sam was all smiles. "Ohhh... _boy_," he said several octaves below his normal speaking voice. There was a giggle from under the covers at that, and damn if _that_ didn't do interesting things.

* * *

Five minutes turned into two, much to his embarrassment. Becky didn't seem to mind, and even complimented him on the 'exchange'. Something about having that much after the night before surprised her. After a rather honest excuse to go to the bathroom, his earlier assessment of the time period was further reinforced by the rather ugly bathroom. Avocado green was so overused.

While he was relieving his bladder, Sam suddenly realized that he had sexual relations with someone he technically hadn't met yet, _and_ who thought he was someone else. It was a good thing he was quick to catch himself, because he just about doused the floor with how fast his head snapped back. "What the hell is _wrong_ with me?" he hissed at himself.

"Not a damn thing," Al said from behind him. Laughing at how he made him jump, Al blew through the scowl. "Damn, what I wouldn't give to wake up to that every morning. Did you see the... Well, I guess you did. Cantalopes, maybe Honeydews. And _boy_, can she pout!"

"Al!" Sam hissed. "I feel bad enough as it is. Don't say anything more about it."

Snickering, Al wasn't finished. "Bout time, Sam. I hadn't seen you look like that since you cracked the protocols for the Imaging Chamber."

Huffing, Sam went to the mirror and took a look at the guy he was supposed to be. Tall, well developed muscles, and a chin that looked like it belonged in Hollywood. The only thing he hated was the rather cheesy moustache. "Spill," he whispered, then felt strange for saying that. Just how much of this guy was bleeding through?

"Well, according to our guest, you're Captain Jack Harkness; it's August fifth, nineteen seventy three; you're in Cardiff, En..." Al smacked his squealing remote. "Cardiff, _Wales_, by way of England; and the stunning blonde is Rebecca Tomlinson. Everything else has been deemed classified by the man. Don't worry, I'll get through to him."

Sam just rotated his index finger in a circle, prodding him on.

"We don't know," Al said with a shrug. "Ziggy can't find anything. What she _did_ say, was that Captain Harkness has been around for a long time. Which, I have to say is damned ka-ka. The only American in Great Britain by that name went MIA in World War II, presumed dead."

"If he's a Captain, which branch does he work for, RAF, RA, Navy?" Sam whispered.

Al shrugged again. "He wont tell us, even after being assured that we have clearance. Swears worse than I do though," he mused. "Maybe I'll try the uniform. Admiral still outranks Captain, any day."

Sam rolled his eyes and held up his left wrist. "Any idea what this is?"

"No, but he was rubbing that spot on his arm like he missed it," Al said.

Frowning, Sam studied the leather wrist band and found snap catches. Undoing them, he flipped it open and went a bit bug eyed. "There's _no way_ this is seventies," he breathed. The digital looking readout was a stark contrast to the period, and the buttons and such reminded him of Star Trek.

"Let me see that," Al said. Sam turned and held it up for him. "That's not nineties, either," Al whispered." Straightening up, he punched some buttons on his remote. "Keep Becky happy. I'll be back." With that, his door opened and he went through.

Honestly, Sam didn't notice. Staring at the strange thing, he pressed a random button. "Invalid User" blinked back at him in large, strange looking letters. "Well, hell," he muttered.


End file.
